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“Touch you?” says Wei Wuxian, eyebrows raised in the lead-up to a laugh. “Ai, Jiang Cheng, that’s all? You took so long and turned so red when I asked what you wanted, I thought for sure it’d be something really scandalous!” He wiggles the eyebrows, grinning.

“Forget it, then,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, rolling away toward the edge of the bed. He’d had to really choke the answer out, and his face is still hot.

Wei Wuxian rolls him back, laughing. Jiang Cheng scowls and lets himself be wrangled. “No way, c’mere! Jiang-zongzhu is almost cute when he’s so needy! Lan Zhan, hey –” Lan Wangji hums, puts down the water he’d been pouring into cups, and settles back in to press Jiang Cheng’s wrists down to the bed. Wei Wuxian swipes some oil off his own thighs and then starts palming Jiang Cheng’s dick with an enthusiasm which, frankly, borders on excessive.

Jiang Cheng hisses, twitching half into his hold and half away – it’s been a vigorous evening, and he’s still teetering at the edge of overstimulated – but it’s good, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are good at this. It’s not really what Jiang Cheng had meant, but there was a thread of relief in Wei Wuxian’s laugh just now, a gladness that Jiang Cheng just wanted something simple, something Wei Wuxian could give.

So. This is fine. Jiang Cheng even gets a handjob out of it. He shuts his eyes and presses into the sliding warmth of Wei Wuxian’s hands, the steadiness of Lan Wangji’s grip. Wei Wuxian works him to orgasm and through the other side, then presses two oiled fingers into his hole while Jiang Cheng's still shuddering and tries to wring another release from him until Jiang Cheng has to shove him off with a foot, cursing as Wei Wuxian cackles.

They all end up tangled together in the bed, which is suitable for two but far too narrow for three grown-ass men to lie comfortably. Wei Wuxian burrows his face into Jiang Cheng’s chest and Lan Wangji is tucked against Wei Wuxian’s back. Their skin all practically sticks together. Lan Wangji’s ludicrous amounts of hair are everywhere. Wei Wuxian threw his leg over Jiang Cheng’s hip as he flopped down, and the angle is awkward and his leg is sweaty and heavy. It’s all very gross.

But, Wei Wuxian mumbles warm nonsense against his chest; Lan Wangji hums an occasional response. Jiang Cheng is fucked-out enough that the ever-present prickle beneath his own skin is distant and ignorable. He lies still.

When Wei Wuxian finally shifts, drawing back to start his standard complaints about getting up, Jiang Cheng pulls away and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He goes over to the table and wipes himself down with the damp towel Lan Wangji left there, starts finger-combing his hair into some semblance of order. Wei Wuxian grumbles about how mean Jiang Cheng is to stop being his pillow, then flops all over Lan Wangji’s lap instead – not a sex thing, but just because Lan Wangji is there, just for the sake of touching.

Jiang Cheng shakes out his inner robe with a snap and half-turns away from the bed to pull it on. Armoring up. Heading out. It’s late, but there’s correspondence to answer before he’s really done for the day. As he dresses, he says briskly, “You said the two of you would be in Yunmeng for, what, a week?" Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji tend to stop by at the turning of the seasons or on holidays - fair, Yunmeng's festivals are objectively better than anywhere else's - but there's no telling whether they'll stay for a few days or a single night, gone by morning.

“Yeah, the night-hunt didn’t take nearly as long as we’d thought,” Wei Wuxian says, bouncing his leg on the mattress, “so we’ve got some time to relax, see the sights. Maybe enjoy some famous Lotus Pier cuisine? I hear your harvest this year was excellent.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “The great Yiling Laozu wants handouts, now?”

“It’s not a handout if we performed a valuable service!” Wei Wuxian says, pointing at him. “We dealt with a very annoying monster so Yunmeng Jiang didn’t have to bother! That should at least earn us some proper food.”

“If you can’t be bothered to write ahead to tell me when you’re coming, I’m not ordering new ingredients to suit your preferences. You’ll eat what we have on hand.” What they have on hand is pretty good; Jiang Cheng has cautiously started keeping Wei Wuxian’s favorites in stock. Lan Wangji presumably has favorites too, but expresses zero preference beyond indulging Wei Wuxian, so fuck it, he can make do with basic bland versions of Yunmeng cuisine.

Jiang Cheng gets the last of his things together and pauses at the door. Neither of them has made a move to keep him here, of course, but Lan Wangji is staring at him.

Nowadays, after more than a year of them all doing… whatever the fuck they’re doing, Jiang Cheng can usually kind of tell what Hanguang-jun’s deal is, what one flat look means as opposed to another. But Lan Wangji’s face is particularly blank tonight and he can’t parse it. Not a cheerful expression, at any rate. Introspection? Or maybe disapproval. Jiang Cheng prickles instinctively.

Then he shoves it down. He reminds himself that this is his goddamn house, and that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji chose to come here. Jiang Cheng may not be anybody’s shidi anymore, or baby, ever, or whatever other lyrical, meaningless terms of endearment Wei Wuxian tends to spout when Jiang Cheng’s sitting on his or his husband’s dick, but he’s not… an intruder in this situation. An addition, at worst. An addendum. And Lan Wangji, bitchy though he can be, had seemed keen enough when he and Wei Wuxian started this arrangement with Jiang Cheng, had reached out as soon as Jiang Cheng muttered I suppose I’m up for it and unceremoniously ripped Jiang Cheng’s ropes open. If Hanguang-jun’s got objections now, he can bring them up to Jiang Cheng’s face.

Lan Wangji still stares.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t let him sleep in till noon.”

Wei Wuxian barks a laugh. Lan Wangji says “Hmm” at Jiang Cheng, then looks down at his husband, face going soft.

Jiang Cheng straightens his already-straight robes, fingers curling against his own collarbone as he adjusts the lapels. Then he leaves for his work and his rooms and his own bed, so big he can reach out as far as he can and yet still touch nothing.

~

Astonishingly, Lan Wangji does not let Wei Wuxian sleep till noon. The disciple Jiang Cheng sends to their guest quarters midmorning, breakfast in hand, comes back with the dishes still covered and reports that Wei-gongzi and Hanguang-jun appear to have departed quite some time prior.

Jiang Cheng works, chomping vengefully through Lan Wangji’s boring dry rice cakes and Wei Wuxian’s overspiced fried lotus root slices and the boiled chestnut zongzi meant for both of them, and uses the extra food as an excuse to skip lunch and work more. He can feel himself winding tighter with each passing shi, like his skin is shrinking, cracking as if with heat.

Pathetic. He’d done everything alone for years. Now he gets fucked a few times and suddenly he can’t handle a single day without a hand on him? He knew going into this how it was going to be.

He finally emerges in late afternoon, rolling his shoulders under the weight of his foul mood, to find the happy couple just returned. They stand together in the sun-soaked main courtyard, brandishing sweets and snacks and small trinkets from the nearby floating market. Wei Wuxian chatters to the surrounding Jiang disciples and offers handfuls of roasted peanuts, casually grabbing people’s wrists to turn their palms upright to receive the gift. Lan Wangji stands beside him, unsmiling but relaxed. Their arms brush.

Jiang Cheng slows. Lan Wangji looks across at him, eyes sweeping up over his body, catching on the exposed side of his neck where Jiang Cheng has pulled his hair over the opposite shoulder. Lan Wangji’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly. Attuned to him, Wei Wuxian glances up, then follows his line of sight. The grin he aims at Jiang Cheng is dimmed a little from what it used to be, but it still rivals the sunshine that fires auburn through his hair.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” he calls out. The disciples echo him. Neither Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji makes any move closer.

Jiang Cheng tilts his chin up as he orders the disciples back to their work. The movement bares a little more of his neck, and he watches Lan Wangji’s and Wei Wuxian’s eyes darken in response. Good. He can work with that.

He strides past the courtyard and hooks an abrupt left into the narrow, shadowed gap between a storeroom and the western garden’s outer wall, where hanging jasmine spills down into the alley to form a little hidden space. He waits there, tense.

The pair of them soon come meandering by, arms looped together, studiously nonchalant. Wei Wuxian is even whistling. Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue at them from his hiding place, feeling a little foolish but prickling enough with impatience to disregard that.

Wei Wuxian immediately dives into the alley, crowding Jiang Cheng through the tangle of flowers and into the wall, his new body as easy and sun-silhouetted as the old one used to be. But for all his apparent gusto, his smile is still a little off. “Hey,” he says, then, breathlessly, “can I – Oh, hey,” when Jiang Cheng shoves into his hands, lets Wei Wuxian yank instinctively at his robes. His collar slips down and this time Wei Wuxian beams for real, preening over the bruises on Jiang Cheng’s throat that the silk had just barely hidden.

“Well, if you’re so blasé about your disciples almost seeing these, guess I can go a little higher this time, huh,” he murmurs, right before he sucks hard at the hinge of Jiang Cheng’s jaw, where Jiang Cheng absolutely will not be able to hide a hickey. Jiang Cheng swears and swats at him. Lan Wangji catches him by the wrists and forces his arms still because gods know nothing should stop Wei Wuxian from doing or not-doing whatever the hell he wants.

“Fuck off – stop that, come on, come here,” Jiang Cheng mutters, arching away from Wei Wuxian’s teeth. He glances him up and down, checks over Lan Wangji’s shoulder – no one at the mouth of the alley, and the disciples usually don’t pass by this gap until the west guards change their shift – then leverages Lan Wangji’s hold on him to press into Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian makes a pleased, surprised noise as Jiang Cheng grinds a thigh up between his legs. That noise alone knocks away half the hateful pressure that’s been building in Jiang Cheng’s chest all day. It’s enough that he grins at Lan Wangji, sharp and exultant.

Cooperative only in this, Lan Wangji drags Jiang Cheng closer until they have Wei Wuxian caught between them, their mouths at his throat and nape, their thighs prying his apart. Wei Wuxian sounds even more delighted at this development. He rocks down against Jiang Cheng and then back against Lan Wangji, pulling at them both with wild hands. Jiang Cheng’s face ends up mashed against Wei Wuxian’s clavicle, the scratchy embroidery at the collar digging into his forehead and Lan Wangji’s grip shifted to jab too hard into the back of his neck, but Wei Wuxian is panting blissfully against him and they’ve hauled him so close it’s almost a real embrace.

Lan Wangji’s fingers twist in Jiang Cheng’s hair. Jiang Cheng complies with the unspoken demand, surging up over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder so Lan Wangji, all teeth, can add his own bite to the side of his neck over Wei Wuxian’s. Wei Wuxian shouts at the sudden pressure and comes in his trousers like a teenager. As he shakes between them, Lan Wangji strokes his thumb under Jiang Cheng’s ear.

Finally Wei Wuxian sags. Jiang Cheng takes his weight willingly. There’s a specific smile Wei Wuxian has in moments like this – relaxed and uncomplicated and a little amazed at his own pleasure, turned inward as much as toward the person he’s looking at – and that’s Jiang Cheng’s reward; smiling like that, Wei Wuxian is practically aglow in his arms. It’s too forward to kiss him, so Jiang Cheng tries carding his rough fingers awkwardly through Wei Wuxian’s hair instead, dislodging the jasmine petals caught there.

Wei Wuxian’s smile freezes for an awful split-second at the attempted tenderness.

Then he tries to nuzzle dutifully in, but Jiang Cheng has already pushed him back, into Lan Wangji’s waiting arms. Lan Wangji’s gaze on Jiang Cheng is heavy as Jiang Cheng flings back his hair, snaps his sleeves out to shake off the petals, tugs his collar up. His skin has gone tight and stinging again. Stupid. Asshole. He knows better.

“Hmm,” Lan Wangji says, exactly the same way he did last night.

“So. Here or the room?” Jiang Cheng snaps. He jerks his chin towards the tent in Lan Wangji’s robes, ignoring his own. “Or nowhere,” he adds peevishly.

That doesn’t even get a Hmm. Lan Wangji just steps back out into the light, gracefully sweeping his outer robes around to disguise his hard-on. Wei Wuxian slinks after him, sneaking frustrated, confused little looks at Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng shoulders past them both.

For an instant, he thinks of taking them to the old bedroom, the one he and Wei Wuxian had shared – he’d tossed all of Wei Wuxian’s old things in there that could be saved, paltry and smoke-stained though they are. There’s the kites they used to fly. There’s the bed with two kissing figures carved into it.

No, right, two figures. He mentally shakes himself and then herds them all to the bedroom – his own rooms, which is probably still too much after Wei Wuxian can’t even stand Jiang Cheng’s hand in his hair but whatever, it’s closer, it’s fine. He slams the door behind them so fast it nearly catches the end of Lan Wangji’s robe.

Jiang Cheng is vaguely aware that the standard response to rejection isn’t WELL I GUESS I’LL JUST FUCK YOUR HUSBAND THEN, but this is already a weird rela- arrangemen- a weird situation, and standard rules probably don’t apply. It wasn’t exactly even a rejection of him, just a rejection of things that don’t fit into the situation. The situation means Jiang Cheng is allowed to fuck Wei Wuxian’s husband. He has been encouraged, vocally and enthusiastically, on multiple occasions, to fuck Wei Wuxian’s husband. Wei Wuxian would prefer it if Jiang Cheng shut up, fucked his husband and thus stopped making shit weird, and with that in mind, he slams down onto his knees and yanks down Lan Wangji’s trousers in the same motion. Mouthing him through the fabric would probably fall into the same category as stroking Wei Wuxian’s hair, anyway.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says, voice almost insultingly even. His hand flies to the top of Jiang Cheng’s head to grip his guan.

Jiang Cheng ignores his opinions in favor of his cock. He licks a long stripe up the underside, making Lan Wangji’s hips twitch forward, then closes his mouth around the tip and flicks his tongue over the bitter precome beading there. He’s allowed to touch now, so he wraps one hand around Lan Wangji’s base and presses the other to the sharp curve of his hip. He glances up at Lan Wangji, daring him.

Lan Wangji takes a long breath through his nose. He pulls the guan free, then sinks one hand into Jiang Cheng’s loosened hair. His other hand moves again over the marks he and Wei Wuxian had left at Jiang Cheng’s jaw, and then he uses his grip to push slowly into Jiang Cheng’s mouth. Draws back, presses forward again, rocking deeper and deeper – slower than Jiang Cheng would prefer, honestly, but sometimes Lan Wangji gets like this. Again, it’s fine. With his mouth full, Jiang Cheng can’t get carried away and accidentally say something stupid or soppy. And Lan Wangji is big; his girth stretches Jiang Cheng wide and slides heavy and hot and velvety on his tongue, too much to breathe around unless he concentrates. It’s always a surefire way to force Jiang Cheng out of his own head, chase away the itch under his skin.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says above him. “At his back.”

Quiet for once, Wei Wuxian splays himself over Jiang Cheng’s back, wrapping his arms around his body and tucking his chin over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder to watch the show. His fingers brush Jiang Cheng’s throat. Jiang Cheng swallows hard around Lan Wangji’s cock, taking it deep so Wei Wuxian can feel it against his hand. Both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji make low, pleased sounds that ripple through him. He shivers.

With that, Wei Wuxian stops sulking and starts to babble as usual. “That’s it,” he murmurs, breath hot on Jiang Cheng’s ear, “that’s a good look on you, so hungry for it, taking it so well. Take whatever you want, baby.” He leans more of his weight onto Jiang Cheng, thighs squeezing him, cock thickening against his ass. Eager, alight, trusting Jiang Cheng – at least in these moments – not to let him fall or tear himself away. “You want more? Lan Zhan, go faster, I want him to have to work at it.” His hand tightens a little at Jiang Cheng’s throat, because that’s definitely not going to hinder Jiang Cheng’s attempts to swallow a huge cock. Caught between impatience and pleasure, Jiang Cheng gives a complaining gurgle and presses down further, too fast and hard, fighting the urge to choke as he forces the head of Lan Wangji’s cock past Wei Wuxian’s grip.

Lan Wangji jolts forward with a gratifying gasp, but then grabs Jiang Cheng’s head to withdraw a bit. “Wei Ying, touch him,” he orders.

Wei Wuxian hums. “Oh? Hear that, Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan’s so sweet to you.” He crams himself even closer, shoving one hand into the front of Jiang Cheng’s robes, fumbling with the clasps at the back of Jiang Cheng’s belt with the other. He bites Jiang Cheng’s ear and tugs at his nipple at the same time, wrenching a vibrating groan out of him that makes Lan Wangji hiss. Wei Wuxian’s had some kind of thing about Jiang Cheng’s nipples since they started this arrangement; he strokes and rolls them now until they’re swollen and Jiang Cheng is squirming into his touch as he bobs back and forth on Lan Wangji’s cock, sensation sparking through his chest.

Then Wei Wuxian suddenly pinches hard, two-handed. Jiang Cheng’s whole body jolts. Lan Wangji’s cock jabs him right in the palate. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, he gags.

Lan Wangji pulls out quick to let him cough, keeping hold of his hair. “Wei Ying,” he scolds.

“Sorry, sorry. But he’s fine, aren’t you, Jiang Cheng?”

“I’m always fine,” Jiang Cheng rasps between coughs. “You’re an asshole.”

Wei Wuxian is unperturbed. “And you look so pretty when you’re choking on a dick, you strain for it so hard! Here, pull back a second.” He tips Jiang Cheng back against his chest – Jiang Cheng grumbles – and soothes his poor abused nipples, petting gently. Then he holds one hand up to Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “C’mon, you don’t want me to touch you dry, right? But I’ve got no idea where you keep the oil in here. Help me out.” He grins at Jiang Cheng’s scornful look, prodding and patting at his mouth while he catches his breath.

Eventually Jiang Cheng gives in and licks his palm with broad, flat strokes. He scrapes his teeth over the first two fingers, curling his tongue around them as he draws slowly back.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both watch him with pupils blown.

Damn right, Jiang Cheng thinks half-viciously, and gives the fingers a last nip as they leave his mouth. A thread of saliva draws thin between them and his lips. It shimmers, then breaks to fall against his chin and throat.

“Wei Ying, hold him against you,” Lan Wangji says, stepping close again. Wei Wuxian obediently hooks his arm around Jiang Cheng to pull him in and pin him in the cradle of Wei Wuxian’s legs. Jiang Cheng’s opened robes rub against his sensitive chest with the movement and he squirms in Wei Wuxian’s hold. “Tighter, so he cannot move away. Now stroke him.” Wei Wuxian thrusts his hand down into Jiang Cheng’s trousers and grips him the way he’s always liked to, just shy of too hard. Slick-palmed, he draws his hand from the root of Jiang Cheng’s cock to the tip, then gives a deft little twist just under the head, rubs his thumb over the slit. He does it again, again, starting to build a rhythm. Jiang Cheng groans, letting his head fall back against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, tilting his hips up to chase the sliding touch. Wei Wuxian’s hands are warm, his shixiong is warm all around him, he’s holding Jiang Cheng close and secure.

“Hmm.” This time, Lan Wangji does sound almost approving, and – what, considering? Condescending? A little irked, Jiang Cheng pries his eyes open to glare at him.

Lan Wangji is barely even mussed, save for a few stands of hair fallen across his forehead and the flushed cock standing out proudly from his opened robes. Jiang Cheng glowers at that big cock, drops his mouth open half in challenge, half in invitation.

Lan Wangji tilts Jiang Cheng’s face up. He looks down his long, beautiful nose as he presses the pad of one thumb thoughtfully onto Jiang Cheng’s tongue. He hums again.

Then he says, “No,” and forces Jiang Cheng’s head to the side. “Wei Ying, kiss him.”

He holds Jiang Cheng’s mouth open for Wei Wuxian to lick eagerly into. Wei Wuxian’s tongue is slick and clever, hungry, and his hands are everywhere. Lightning-hot touches slide over Jiang Cheng’s dick, his balls, his nipples; Wei Wuxian’s thigh shifts upward to grind between Jiang Cheng’s legs, shifting him in toward Wei Wuxian’s chest where he can be better held. And he is held, drawn tighter and tighter by the arm around his waist, the hand at his mouth.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall shut. He is hazy, breathless, drunk on touch. If not for Lan Wangji’s thumb hooked between his teeth and Wei Wuxian’s arm at his waist and the deep grounding rumble of Lan Wangji’s voice, he might float away entirely. “His throat,” Lan Wangji murmurs in the close warm dark, and there is soft, damp pressure at Jiang Cheng’s throat, fluttering touches interspersed with tiny sharp bites. “His chest. No,” when lips suck hard on Jiang Cheng’s sore nipple, and Jiang Cheng hisses, “not like that.” Fingers sink into Jiang Cheng’s hair as another palm glides down the center of his chest, tracing a path. Wei Wuxian hesitates, then his mouth follows. There’s not much sensation, the press of Wei Wuxian’s lips careful but oddly distant. He….

Jiang Cheng’s chest heaves abruptly. The scars. Wei Wuxian is – Lan Wangji is touching –

He opens his eyes. Wei Wuxian’s eternally-messy hair puffs like black dandelion down into Jiang Cheng’s face, but he can see Wei Wuxian mouthing at the scars on his chest. Kissing them, slow and reluctant. He must feel Jiang Cheng tense because he glances up, meeting Jiang Cheng’s stare, and forces a smile. “Yeah, not a good idea, I guess – never mind.” He shifts his attention from the scars back to Jiang Cheng’s nipples, biting softly, flicking them with his tongue. “Like this, then,” he breathes against the stinging skin. Then, quieter, not-quite-mumbling: “Love you like this.”

Jiang Cheng shudders in response. Like this. Not like I used to. Like this, only like –

His face is doing – something. Wei Wuxian can’t see it but he doesn’t want Lan Wangji to see either, he doesn’t, he’s too exposed, he hates it. Fuck –

The thing is, he already knows he’s too much. That he comes with too much past, that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji flinch every time they have to touch him for anything beyond ill-advised sex, that Jiang Cheng keeps wanting things he has no right to anymore. He can’t be gracious about it all the time. But anyone might find it hard to be gracious, when the man who used to touch Jiang Cheng with all the easy affection in the world now can’t meet his eyes or call him by name in public, wary of Jiang Cheng’s scars. When Jiang Cheng makes a fool of himself hoping to wring scraps of tenderness from another man’s husband, any moments of camaraderie between them secondhand and stolen. When Jiang Cheng is welcome to get fucked, but then should otherwise fuck off. He has nobody to blame but himself.

He knows, he knows. He’s trying.

The inside of his skin feels like it’s studded with knives.

He flings himself backward out of Wei Wuxian’s lap. Wei Wuxian yelps, reflexively scrabbling to keep hold of him. They both end up elbowed and kneed in assorted tender parts for the trouble.

“What the hell’s with you!” Wei Wuxian yowls. He nurses the spot on his inner thigh that Jiang Cheng had jabbed.

“That’s my line,” Jiang Cheng snarls – wheezes, really – from where he’s braced against Lan Wangji’s shins. It feels like Wei Wuxian accidentally almost yanked off his poor dick. “Don’t – don’t kiss me like that.”

Wei Wuxian throws up his hands. “Fine! I won’t! But I’m literally getting you off! I am working hard to get you off. If I’m not doing it how you like, then maybe you could be a little less bitchy about it and actually tell me what you want –”

“I was doing exactly what I and you and everybody wants, which was shutting up and sucking your husband’s stupidly huge dick! So, you," he barks, jabbing a finger up at Lan Wangji, “back over here, now!”

Lan Wangji immediately swoops down. Jiang Cheng is startled for half a second because wow, Lan Wangji has literally never followed an order from him in their entire lives, except for things he was going to do anyway.

Then he grabs Jiang Cheng’s face like an errant child and drags him up to his knees, tilting him back and back until Jiang Cheng has to clutch at his arms for balance.

“Hmmm,” Lan Wangji intones yet again. His face has gone practically expressive – mouth thinned, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed as he studies Jiang Cheng. “Jiang Wanyin,” he says at last, “stop it. You must say what you mean.”

Jiang Wanyin doesn’t have to do shit, actually! Jiang Wanyin has said a lot already, which is the whole fucking problem when the people he’s sleeping with want him to get over things and stop being so pathetically emotional and leave the past in the past so they can all focus on the glorious, boner-filled future wherein the Greatest Love Story In the World stops by Lotus Pier every once in a while to magnanimously let Jiang Cheng choke on its cock!!

“I did say,” he mutters. It comes out muffled and ridiculous. Lan Wangji is literally squishing his cheeks.

“You want to be touched,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“I was touching him!” Wei Wuxian protests. “I was doing it right, Jiang Cheng, you always liked it like that before!”

“That isn’t what he means,” Lan Wangji goes on. Merciless. Jiang Cheng cannot believe that Lan Wangji, the lofty Hanguang-jun who spent sixteen years scathingly ignoring him, has now apparently sussed out things he’s never said aloud, things he has barely even said in the privacy of his own brain. And, furthermore, wants to talk about it. Well. Wants Jiang Cheng to talk, which is almost as bizarre.

He tightens his grip on Lan Wangji’s forearms. “Lan Wangji,” he warns, then, when that only gets a flat look, he adds, “surely this can wait until after I finish sucking you off.”

Lan Wangji pauses. His cock gives a hopeful twitch. Jiang Cheng is flattered.

But with faint regret, he says, “Mm, no. I will be fine. You two should talk.”

“You just hate talking and make other people do it for you,” Jiang Cheng mutters. Lan Wangji steps away, tucking himself back in. He settles beside Wei Wuxian in an expectant flick of sleeves.

Jiang Cheng forces himself to look over at Wei Wuxian – first his knobby bare knees beneath his rucked-up robes, then his quick-breathing chest, then – fuck it, Jiang Cheng’s a lot of things but he’s no coward – then his face. Wei Wuxian looks wary, but still focused. His dark eyes are wide, lower lip caught anxiously between his teeth like he’s done since childhood. Jiang Cheng’s chest squeezes.

They all gawp at each other. After a long moment, Wei Wuxian prompts, “You want to be touched.”

“Sure, I guess.”

Wei Wuxian oh-so-magnanimously does not roll his eyes. “In a specific way.”

“Doesn’t want to be touched in a way to do with fucking,” says Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shoot up; his gaze snaps to Jiang Cheng’s.

“Wait, what? Do you not –” He goes kind of gray-faced, like he’s seasick. “Jiang Cheng, do you not want to – Did you not – Did I – Jiang Cheng, do you not like… having sex with us? Or not like how we’ve been doing it?”

Jiang Cheng frowns, baffled. “What? No. The sex is great.” And he’s good at it, and he likes being good at it. He did not learn to do a split directly down onto a dick for nothing.

Wei Wuxian lets out a noisy sigh of relief. “Okay! Then…?” He waits.

Jiang Cheng tries to summon up how he’d felt last night as they lounged in bed. Wei Wuxian, laughing, but also in earnest – asking, unprompted, what Jiang Cheng wanted. Lan Wangji behind him, relaxed as he poured three cups of clean water. Jiang Cheng resting a little easier in his own skin for once, sticky and exhausted. Warm. Not quite content, or secure, but… able to see the shape of such things, for the first time in a while. Able to imagine them. Maybe, maybe, maybe starting to trust that this is where the two men he… ugh, cares about… wish themselves to be.

Now he mostly feels nauseous and tired and thickheaded as the blood starts to drain out of his dick but not back into his brain where he needs it. Instead it seems to be clotting painfully in his throat and around his heart.

“You touch me when you fuck me,” he says at last. It comes out easier as an accusation. “Or when you want to fuck me.”

Wei Wuxian’s brow furrows. “And you don’t like that? I can totally stop grabbing you, no problem, I know you’d rather I tone down the, uh –” he gives a thin rueful chuckle – “the amount of me, in public, I get that it’s a lot.”

“Don’t tell me what I’d rather you do!” Jiang Cheng snaps. Wei Wuxian’s mouth clicks shut, already curling into an automatic, overbright smile. “No, stop that. I just mean….”

He thinks of when it was easy. An arm around his shoulders. Sneaking into each other’s beds. Warm breath in his ear, warm weight leaning on him. Never uncomplicated, exactly, but unthinking, unhesitating, unafraid. Freely given and freely accepted.

He knows what he wants. He knows what he wants.

But it doesn’t count if he has to beg for it, or ask for it. If he forces Wei Wuxian into it, and so drags Lan Wangji in too. He and Wei Wuxian aren’t those boys anymore. They falter, now, no matter what they try to give each other. They both do. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji do, when it comes to him.

The touch was just a byproduct of the ease, and he will never regain that.

“It’s fine,” he says. He sounds tired. “We just….” He is tired and his throat is filled with knives. “You touch me when you want to fuck. Just then. But it used to be –”

He stops.

But Wei Wuxian is the great genius of their age, who once knew Jiang Cheng better than anyone in the world. He hears, and his eyes go big. “Oh,” he breathes. “Oh – yes. We used to be different. It used to be…”

“Fuck it,” Jiang Cheng mutters. He finally lets his gaze drop. “I know you don’t like me making everything about the past.”

“Hey, no, what? Don’t you tell me what I want, either!”

Jiang Cheng’s irritable gesture encompasses all three of them. “I do know what you wanted from this – situation!”

“Fine then, you’re so well-informed, what do you know we want from you?” Wei Wuxian snaps.

Jiang Cheng lifts a mocking eyebrow at him. He gestures again, this time at himself. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are still mostly dressed, fairly presentable – other than the wet trousers Wei Wuxian’d kicked off into the corner. Overall, potentially ready to leave at a moment’s notice, boners notwithstanding. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng’s mouth is pink and swollen, his hair tangled. His neck is littered with bites. His robes have been yanked open to frame his red-chafed nipples like an illustration in some cheap spring book, and there’s a damp patch at the front of his trousers, courtesy of his own saliva and his leaking cock. He’s well aware that he looks fucking ruined compared to them, which is probably a metaphor or some shit like that.

Wei Wuxian throws up his hands. “Okay, yeah yeah, we all know you’re super hot.” Damn right, objectively speaking. Jiang Cheng’s mother was a known beauty, and he takes after her, so: hot. Also objectively, his outfits are fucking impeccable. Not that it matters much once he’s been stripped, but it does help things along toward that point. And, as mentioned: splits. “But – Jiang Cheng, come on. You know that’s not all we’re looking for from you.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t lower his eyebrow. “Yeah, apparently you also want properly-spiced Yunmeng food, and easy access to the floating market.”

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both stare.

“And a place to sleep when your night-hunts lead you nearby,” Jiang Cheng says, frustration building. “And –” He swallows. “And… Wei Wuxian did grow up here. You both… value Lotus Pier and Yunmeng as a whole, you appreciate their charms. As you should, because they’re magnificent! And you appreciate….” His eyes and nose burn. Wei Wuxian may no longer like excessive expressions of emotion between them, but there are some parts of their past that Jiang Cheng cannot tolerate his letting go of, and which he knows Wei Wuxian still values. Wei Wuxian has, after asking properly this time, paid his respects in the Jiang ancestral hall.

“You are,” he rasps at last, “the last person living who truly knew my family, Wei Wuxian. You… cared for them. About them. So. By – by proxy, you can – you, for me – You probably find value in, in that.”

He does know that Wei Wuxian had loved him, when they were children. Loved him as a young man, enough to tear himself apart, tear out own his golden core. But the crux of that love –

The temple. Weeping on his knees, alone, Wei Wuxian holding himself carefully out of reach. What I owed the Jiang clan, he’d said, even if that was never what Jiang Cheng had wanted from him. But he’s still pathetic enough, hungry enough, to take it.

Guest rooms and good food and a warm body are the least he can offer in return.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says after an ominous pause, “what the fuck. Are you an idiot?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji chides as Jiang Cheng splutters. Then, to Jiang Cheng, “You are being something of an idiot. Still, Wei Ying and I have misstepped.”

“I fucked something up here,” Wei Wuxian says, a little manic like when he gets caught up in working on a new talisman. He scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Obviously I fucked up somewhere with how I went about this, but I still – Okay. Okay. Jiang Cheng, for fuck’s sake, I have been in love with you basically since I was, like, eight. I love you, and I like you, and we like you, and like spending time with you. That didn’t change because we all started fucking!”

Jiang Cheng’s chest hurts. He gives a derogatory scoff. He knows it wasn’t because of the fucking, it’s because of everything else he did before that, does, is, and then they started fucking. He reaches out and grabs Wei Wuxian’s hand. Wei Wuxian flinches back like he expects to be hit.

“See,” Jiang Cheng says, aching and viciously vindicated. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve the flinch.

Wei Wuxian rallies and clamps their fingers together like it’s some kind of revenge. “Yeah, well, you get weird when I kiss your chest!”

“You don’t have to kiss my chest. It’s all scarred-up and rough. It probably feels gross!”

“I know I don’t have to! I want to! Unless touching it hurts and you hate it,” he adds hastily. “Then I don’t want to. But you haven’t said so!”

“Of course it fucking hurts,” Jiang Cheng snaps. The flesh has been numb for years, but – it always hurts. “And yeah, I didn’t say I hated it.”

Wei Wuxian’s face flickers through about ten different expressions, then turns frustrated. “Okay. Okay then, but – you never say what you like, either! You just – I don’t want to overstep – and you let us touch you when it’s for sex – and so I’m sure about that and I don’t want to make everything else suck even more for you than I already did, I don’t want it to hurt!”

Jiang Cheng makes a shrill, unidentifiable sound. “I don’t want to hurt any of us either but I’m pretty sure the ship has FUCKING SAILED on that one, Wei Ying!”

Lan Wangji grips both their sleeves. Wei Wuxian twitches like he’s going to let go. Jiang Cheng almost lets him.

Then he doesn’t. None of them do. They glare down at Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's joined hands.

An impasse.

And a link.

After a moment, Jiang Cheng snorts tiredly. Wei Wuxian looks startled at the laugh, but his mouth starts to curl up in response as Jiang Cheng speaks.

“This is moronic. Pouting on the floor, half-naked, talking in circles. Lan Wangji very politely not saying anything about his boner.”

“Oh, well, as established, we’re all kind of idiots,” Wei Wuxian snickers. Then he takes a breath, flexing his fingers between Jiang Cheng’s. “What if – Okay. Jiang Cheng, what if we all say something that we want. What if you tell us one thing we can give you to help show how we feel, so this poor feeble-minded man can be sure, at least, of a place to start.”

Jiang Cheng lets out his own breath in a long hiss.

One thing. Just that.

Surely even Jiang Cheng can say….

Slowly, he adjusts their intertwined grip so it’s a little gentler, a little easier. He’d grabbed Wei Wuxian to make a point, half-unthinking, but now his palm is sweating like a teenager’s and his skin feels hot as a brand. He makes himself stroke his thumb along the back of Wei Wuxian’s hand, feeling the fine ridges of his bones, the rough little burns and scrapes where he’s gotten into trouble.

Then Jiang Cheng glances at Lan Wangji, who sits patiently. But Hanguang-jun doesn’t much like physical contact even at the best of times, and it’s not like the constant ache to touch his skin is exactly the same as the one Jiang Cheng feels for Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng shifts to bump their knees together, feeling ridiculous. But Lan Wangji blinks at him, then relaxes into the touch. “There,” Jiang Cheng says. His face burns.

“Wait, is that it?” Wei Wuxian looks taken aback. “Just… hand-holding? Like kids do? You want me to hold your hand more often?”

“You said to pick one thing! And it’s not like you’ve been doing it,” Jiang Cheng snaps. He fights down the knee-jerk instinct to let go; Wei Wuxian hadn’t said to let go. So it’s fine. It is.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes and grip soften. “Okay. I didn’t mean anything bad, I just didn’t expect something so simple. Maybe Sandu Shengshou is surprisingly sweet, under all that lightning?”

Jiang Cheng grumbles, face hotter than ever. “Your turn.”

“Hmm. How about….” Wei Wuxian bounces their joined hands, pursing his lips at Lan Wangji. “How about I… get to hug you next time we’re on the docks together, Jiang Cheng? And,” he adds, “you have to promise not to get upset about it, even if I mess it up.”

Hugging him. Willingly. Jiang Cheng’s shoulders shudder with phantom warmth. It’ll be too much, without the excuse of sex; he’ll probably die. “A hug is… fine. But what the fuck counts as ‘messing up.’ You planning to fall into the river or something? You planning to push me in the river?”

“I mean if I flinch,” Wei Wuxian says. Jiang Cheng duly flinches. “If I can’t do it like we used to, right away.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw tightens. “I won’t promise not to be angry at all.” Lan Wangji presses against him, grounding and unshakable. “But I… promise to want you to do it again.”

“Oh….” Wei Wuxian lifts their hands to mouth at Jiang Cheng’s fingers. He laughs only a bit shakily. “Jiang Cheng! Your face is so red! Good thing I didn’t ask for a kiss at the docks instead, or you’d apparently die of embarrassment!”

“Fuck off! Lan Wangji, pick a thing.”

“Jiang Wanyin must tell me a food he enjoys,” Lan Wangji says immediately. “I have only seen you call for dishes preferred by Wei Ying and Jin Rulan.”

Jiang Cheng lets out a surprised bark of laughter, half delighted and half outraged. “What the hell? Only if you tell ME one of YOUR favorites, don’t think I haven’t noticed you ordering spicy food just so you can sneak it all into Wei Wuxian’s bowl and eat plain rice like an ascetic. I have been trying to figure out what you actually like to eat for months.”

Wei Wuxian gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his heart. “Lan Zhan? You said you’d developed a taste for spicy food! You mean I’ve been tricked to force my husband to suffer in silence?”

Lan Wangji shoots Jiang Cheng a dirty look, which Jiang Cheng gleefully and openly doesn’t give a shit about, considering Lan Wangji had literally just now betrayed him into talking about feelings. Ears red, Lan Wangji mutters, “I can enjoy… certain specific dishes….”

Jiang Cheng jabs a finger at him. “No lying in the Cloud Recesses!”

“We are not in the Cloud Recesses.” Lan Wangji’s ears get even redder. “Also, I am not lying.”

Wei Wuxian gasps again. “Lan Zhan, you can’t keep things like this to yourself! We need to foster open honest communication between all of us!”

“Yeah Lan Zhan, foster that open honest communication,” Jiang Cheng says, grinning.

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes at him. “Fine. I will choose another thing I wish to do.”

Quick as a whip, he grabs them both by the backs of their necks and hauls them into his lap. Jiang Cheng swears. Wei Wuxian shrieks with surprised laughter in Jiang Cheng’s ear as they tumble over each other. They end up splayed over Lan Wangji’s thighs, their hands braced against his chest. It’s an extremely tight fit. Jiang Cheng spits Wei Wuxian’s hair out of his mouth, then gets it right back in as he gasps when Lan Wangji grinds up against him, the bulge of his straining cock a delicious damp pressure against Jiang Cheng’s own. Everything is heat and hands and closeness.

“I may not yet know your favorite meal,” Lan Wangji says, low and hot in his ear, sliding his hand down Jiang Cheng’s back to grip his ass, “but I know what you hunger for, and what you look like when you pretend not to. I watched you for years, even when I did so out of frustration. Even when it was hate. I watched.”

That’s – new information. That’s a lot. Jiang Cheng swallows down a moan, reflexively rolling his hips back into the touch. “Hey, you’re supposed to – fuck – supposed to choose things that don’t have to do with sex.”

“Mm. Should have established that rule beforehand, then.”

“Shameless,” Jiang Cheng hisses. He bares his teeth as he tries to arch up. Lan Wangji is pressing his hips down tight, not letting him move enough to get proper friction.

“Shameless is good!” Wei Wuxian says. “See, Jiang Cheng, you’re smiling. Tell us what you want, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji scrapes his teeth gently over Wei Wuxian’s collarbone, then swivels to Jiang Cheng and bites him on the neck, hard, same spot as before. Jiang Cheng makes a strangled sound and digs his nails vengefully into Lan Wangji’s bicep. Lan Wangji pushes two fingers into Jiang Cheng’s mouth in reply. “I would like,” he says, over Jiang Cheng’s muffled complaint, “to be shameless with you, Jiang Wanyin. I am proud to be with Wei Ying, and want everyone to see that. Want them to eat their words. Want them all to know.”

He pulls Jiang Cheng back in against his hip. His long, wetted fingers press down and in, sliding under the rucked-high edge of Jiang Cheng’s robes, dipping between his asscheeks. Judging by the noises Wei Wuxian is making he’s getting the same treatment, albeit over his robes.

“It is the same for you now, ever since we began this arrangement. Every time a discussion conference is held, I think about Wei Ying and me fucking you together, just before the meeting starts, in a nearby room as all the gentry waits for us. Or perhaps on the meeting table during a break, when they have all gone outside to gossip and flatter each other. Want to knock that proud look off your face, make you come all over the table where they’ve sat and wasted our time – the others still close by, so if you moan every sect leader I’ve watched making eyes at you for twenty years will hear it, will know exactly who’s fucking you and exactly what they’re missing.” Two fingers brush Jiang Cheng’s hole. “You always try to stay quiet as you’re fucked. You’d bite your own arms, or mine, to keep from making noise. But you get loudest when Wei Ying takes you, so I’d let him go second, once you’re already open and tired and oversensitive, let him make you scream, let you make him laugh.” The fingers, prodding deeper. Firmer. Circling his rim, not really trying to thrust inside him, but Jiang Cheng rides back against them anyway. He’s panting, clutching at Lan Wangji’s shoulders, at Wei Wuxian’s hand. Wei Wuxian pulls Jiang Cheng’s hand up to his face and presses his own gasping mouth to it, too uncoordinated to be a kiss, too sweet to be anything else. “Then,” Lan Wangji continues, smooth and relentless, “want to see you stand up to say your piece in the meeting not a single ke later, tearing every foolish sycophant there to shreds, and know that despite your sneers and your fierceness and your fine bearing, beneath your robes your thighs are bruised and trembling as you drip with our cum. That you wanted us too badly to wait.” More pressure from his fingers, not enough. More. More. More, Jiang Cheng doesn’t beg. “That everyone knows it, but cannot say. That you wanted them to know. That you wanted.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers finally, finally breach him. It’s rough and Jiang Cheng’s sweat and spit and the spreading slick from his leaking cock are barely enough to ease the slide, it stings and it’s good. Lan Wangji presses so deep and curls his fingers so perfectly; Jiang Cheng jerks forward and grinds his cock against Lan Wangji’s hip, gritting his teeth against the keen that wants to bubble up his throat. Lan Wangji fucks relentlessly into him again, again, again, then twists his fingers right up against Jiang Cheng’s prostate. Jiang Cheng’s head snaps back, his whole body arching. Lan Wangji watches his face. Then he drives Jiang Cheng forward to kiss him, unapologetic and devouring, on the mouth, then once more, on the temple, soft.

Embarrassingly, that’s what really does it. Jiang Cheng comes with a noise like he’s been punched.

He comes back to himself after a long, blissfully blank moment, ears ringing and chest heaving. He’d curled into Lan Wangji’s body as he came, and so gingerly leans back, blinking the world back into focus. Lan Wangji’s broad hand splays at the small of his back to keep him from tipping over. Wei Wuxian has tucked himself against his husband’s body, cheek pressed against the exquisite column of his throat, winded and glassy-eyed, a mirror of Jiang Cheng’s earlier position. He smiles dazedly at Jiang Cheng.

As Jiang Cheng watches, Lan Wangji smirks – smirks! – and nips at the tip of Wei Wuxian’s ear, gaze dark and molten and fixed on Jiang Cheng too. Both of them making sure he’s part of this, wanting him just where he is.

That you wanted us too badly to wait.

Jiang Cheng wants them too badly, full stop.

Or maybe not too badly. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe there’s no such thing, with this. Maybe he wants them just the way they hope to be wanted.

Jiang Cheng drops his eyes, attempting to get his breathing under control and his brain back in working order, to preserve some measure of dignity. Hoarsely, he tries to complain, “Lan Wangji, that’s more words than I’ve heard you say at once in the last twenty fucking years. And you used them on a fantasy about hypothetical Sect Leaders eyeing me up?”

It’s meant to cut the tension, but he sounds a little too breathless for that to work. Lan Wangji’s smirk just widens. “A good use of words,” he says, and shifts his thigh minutely.

Jiang Cheng’s mouth clamps shut, face aflame as he can’t help but squirm against that toned thigh. Rather than sated after coming, he feels greedy, hungrier than ever. His half-hard cock still drips against Lan Wangji’s hip.

Still, the joke snaps Wei Wuxian out of his haze. “’Hypothetically’ eyeing you up? I’ve seen all of them, every time I’ve been to a discussion conference! You’re way too unguarded, A-Cheng, it’s just a matter of time before one of those ingrates tries to get marital with my beautiful shidi.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. This is helping, actually. It’s physically impossible for him to feel exposed and oversentimental when discussing the idiots of the gentry.

“I’m serious! You know how you can do a split down onto Lan Zhan’s dick? Sect Leader Yao can tell that. He’s gagging for it. You’ve got the unmistakable aura of a man who can perform awe-inspiring dick acrobatics. Dickrobatics.”

Jiang Cheng grimaces. “Poetic. If you ever speak about me like this again, we’ll see just how acrobatic I can be as I snap off your cock.”

“Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Wangji’s fingers press back against his sensitive hole, and Jiang Cheng jolts forward with a groan. “We have all worked hard to set the mood. There’s no need to talk about maiming each other’s genitalia at such a time. And even less need to talk about Sect Leader Yao.”

“Hey, you brought him up by implication, fantasizing about us fucking A-Cheng in front of him and the whole world! But okay, okay, speaking of which.” Wei Wuxian leans in again. They are so close Jiang Cheng has to go nearly cross-eyed to see him, both of them pressed up against Lan Wangji’s collarbone as they are. Wei Wuxian beams, flushed and disheveled.

“It may have derailed a little at the end thanks to your frankly masterful use of words, Lan Zhan, but we all talked about feelings and it didn’t kill us! Good job, team.” Wei Wuxian’s grin goes even wider. “Now that we’ve done that, and, as Lan Zhan says, done such a good job setting the mood… I’d say it’s time to move this to the bed. Which is a way to express that we love each other, and like each other – for our personalities, Jiang Cheng, and not just because you and Lan Zhan are super hot!”

“Oh thank god the talking’s over,” Jiang Cheng says, and tears his robes straight off.

~

“Will you,” Jiang Cheng hisses, “fucking get on with it – ah –” His voice fractures as Wei Wuxian just twists his fingers deeper, forcing Jiang Cheng’s spine into an obscene curve. Jiang Cheng throws his head back, straining as he arches in Lan Wangji’s arms. Lan Wangji holds him steady in his lap, holds him in place for Wei Wuxian. Holds him pinned open on his cock as Wei Wuxian tucks his fingers, one by one, into Jiang Cheng’s stretched hole.

“Just one more, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, and brushes a kiss onto Jiang Cheng’s thigh. He prods his fingers a little deeper; the oiled squelch of them is so lewd that Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut like he can hide, his cheeks burning. “Just a little, just be patient. You’re still so tight. You’re doing so good.”

Don’t patronize me, you’ve taken both my and Lan Wangji’s dicks at once before and your new cock’s not even as big as mine, Jiang Cheng wants to snap, but when his mouth opens he just makes a high, breathy little noise. Lan Wangji mouths at the crook of his neck. He tightens his arms around Jiang Cheng’s body, soothing his hands up and down his ribs. He is so hot against Jiang Cheng’s skin, as though he should be alight like an ember, like a flame, like he could burn Jiang Cheng away. Jiang Cheng twitches backward into his heat, twitches down into the press of his cock and Wei Wuxian’s slow, maddening fingers. Slow, so slow – Wei Wuxian isn’t even moving now, damn him –

“One more, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian repeats.

Jiang Cheng drags his eyes open to glare. Wei Wuxian smiles at him, looking so patient for once, staying so close their noses brush. “Y’ve already got… three fingers in me,” Jiang Cheng rasps, dizzy and thick-tongued. “I’m ready, damn it, I can take it – I –”

Wei Wuxian nuzzles his cheek, slips over his shoulder to kiss Lan Wangji. “Mm, not yet.”

“I don’t need four, I’m ready, I am.” Jiang Cheng’s snarl breaks into a whine. Wei Wuxian kisses his mouth, licking into him as he gasps. Then he pulls away.

“One more,” he says again, eyes dark, fingers still unmoving, “to help you relax. Show us what you want.”

Jiang Cheng whines again. In sheer frustration, he rolls his hips down as best he can, straining for more friction against his walls. Lan Wangji is pressed everywhere inside him, sparking slow, liquid heat through his body, but as he sinks down further Wei Wuxian’s fingers brush him deep and his whole body lights up with electricity. He makes a strangled sound and shoves his hips down again, chasing the touch. He can barely move, he’s already stretched so wide. But he needs those fingers, needs them so badly.

“That’s it,” Wei Wuxian breathes. He crowds close, pinning Jiang Cheng between his body and Lan Wangji’s. The shift changes the angle of his fingers, and Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji both hiss. “Love seeing you feel good like this. Love seeing how much you want us. Give me just one more, Jiang Cheng, I know you can do it, and then I’ll give you what you want.”

Oh. He means – he doesn’t mean more fingers, he means – Jiang Cheng sobs with frustration. He’s already come twice tonight, but he drags his knees into place underneath his body so he can fuck himself properly on Wei Wuxian’s fingers, on Lan Wangji’s cock, fuck yet another orgasm out of his exhausted body so Wei Wuxian will finally, finally give him what he needs. Wei Wuxian exhales in satisfaction as Jiang Cheng starts to move; he noses at Jiang Cheng’s temple, whispering encouragement into his hair, whispering those stupid pet names he’s so fond of. It’s hard to move, held so tight between both men, but Jiang Cheng can’t stop clutching them to him, doesn’t want them to ever pull away, doesn’t want to stop before he comes again. Wei Wuxian asked him to come, so he will.

Lan Wangji growls as Jiang Cheng pumps himself up and down. He wrenches Jiang Cheng’s head back by the hair to kiss him, all teeth and tongue and desperation. When he’s done he shoves Jiang Cheng forward and Wei Wuxian cups his jaw and kisses him too, sweeter than Lan Wangji, slower. Filthier, sliding his tongue along the roof of Jiang Cheng’s mouth as he slides his fingers back and forth in his hole.

The promised fourth finger joins them, tugging him even wider. Jiang Cheng pants and cries out; Wei Wuxian swallows his noises greedily down. Even with the additional stretch he can’t get the angle quite right, release still hovering out of reach as he moves, but he’s so open, he’s so open for them. His shixiong, Wangji. They are here and they want to be here and they want to be with him and they –

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says in his ear, and Jiang Cheng realizes he’s been – he doesn’t even know what he’s been begging for. He wants everything, all of it. “Yes, Wanyin, I will help you. Here.” He wraps an oiled hand around Jiang Cheng’s aching cock. Jiang Cheng jerks up into the tight, slick channel of his grip, gasping with relief.

“See, shidi, I told you Lan Zhan was sweet on you,” Wei Wuxian whispers. His hand joins Lan Wangji’s, thumb skimming over Jiang Cheng’s slit the way he knows Jiang Cheng likes. Jiang Cheng fucks himself forward into their hands, grinds downward onto that cock and those clever fingers, faster, wanton, god, the sounds he’s making, the sounds they’re making, praise and provocation all at once –

Lan Wangji bites his shoulder, and Wei Wuxian takes pity on him and thrusts into his hole, fingers jolting over his prostate, and Jiang Cheng chokes and comes, and comes, and comes.

He floats after that. They move him around, arranging his limbs and lolling head where they want on the pillows. They touch him gently. They tip his head up to kiss him, firm and deep – that’s Lan Wangji – or light, peppering not just his lips but also his cheeks and forehead – that’s Wei Wuxian – or tender, slow, stroking his hair back from his face. That could be either of them.

He sighs when one of them slides back into him; he groans when the other sinks in too with little resistance. They wrap all around him, still stroking his hair, rocking deep into the welcome of his body by increments. He hears them kiss each other over him. Feels them kiss his jaw, his lips and throat, his wrists, his scarred chest. Everything is warm and unhurried. He’s so full. He thinks vaguely that he should try clenching or moving or something, something to make it good for them. But he’s so lax that all he can do is take it – the slow, deliberate press of their bodies and their mouths, the gradual tide of heat that rolls through his body, the bright, pulsing edge of almost-pain, of almost-too-much. All he can do is take.

Eventually he realizes that the buzzing sensation he feels against his skin is Wei Wuxian, talking away like always. The recognition knocks a little huff of laughter out of him. He turns toward the sound, close-eyed. Wei Wuxian’s hand is in his again, fingers laced tight together; he speaks against Jiang Cheng’s fingers, breath and tongue flickering over Jiang Cheng's damp skin.

“- want to do this all the time,” Wei Wuxian is saying. He’s at Jiang Cheng’s back, chin hooked over his shoulder, hips pumping slowly upward into him. “Want to be just like this, always. We’re gonna be with you right, A-Cheng, we’re gonna work on this. We’re all probably going to have to talk more often about feelings stuff and that’ll suck, but it’s okay, we can be brave about it. You’re gonna get sick of me hanging around. Just want so much from you, shidi, want to give you so much, want to make you cry from feeling so fucking good, being so happy – oh. Jiang Cheng?” A thumb swipes gently at the wetness slipping from Jiang Cheng’s eyes down over his temples. Two voices, two low, worried murmurs.

“Jiang Wanyin.”

“Jiang Cheng, does it hurt?”

“No, you idiots,” Jiang Cheng croaks. His breath hitches as one of them drives into him a little harder – probably Lan Wangji – then he sighs when they go gentle again, kissing his shoulder in apology. “Doesn’t hurt. It feels good. You two can go harder, you can come.”

“Don’t need to. This is nice too, just this.” Wei Wuxian nestles his face down into the join of Jiang Cheng’s neck and shoulder.

Jiang Cheng draws their joined hands up to cup the side of Wei Wuxian’s head, brushing their fingers through his soft wild hair. “Want you to come in me, A-Xian,” he whispers.

He turns his face to the side to catch Wei Wuxian’s lips as his shixiong looks up with a sharp, indrawn breath. Jiang Cheng cracks open an eye when they part to see Lan Wangji gazing at them, mouth fallen slightly open, eyes luminous, forehead bare. With effort, he lifts his numb legs and wraps them clumsily around Lan Wangji’s hips to draw him closer.

“I want you to,” he repeats, and cries out when Wei Wuxian swears and obligingly bucks upward into him. Lan Wangji follows a moment later. They press into him and withdraw, one after the other like waves. Not hard but deep, deep, their rhythm gradually building speed.

Jiang Cheng’s whole body goes slack under the force of them. He is pulsing with want, helpless with it. He melts backward into Wei Wuxian’s arms, moaning open-mouthed. His legs slip down from Lan Wangji’s waist but Lan Wangji catches them back up, pressing a fierce kiss to one knee, then hitches them higher so he can grind even deeper in. “Want you to come in me,” Jiang Cheng gasps. He can’t shut up and doesn’t care. He wants them to know. “Want you in me, want you here, please. Please. A-Xian, Wangji, fuck, please, please, please. I always want you.”

Lan Wangji bites his lip so hard it bleeds. His hips stutter. He curves abruptly over Jiang Cheng, forehead pressed to his shoulder as wet heat blooms inside Jiang Cheng’s body. Jiang Cheng sighs again, curling a hand in the fine, damp hair at the nape of Lan Wangji’s neck.

Wei Wuxian makes a low sound and thrusts up too, rocking indulgently. They fill Jiang Cheng together, then overflow him. Cum spills down his thighs and over Wei Wuxian’s hips.

They stay like that, all three of them locked together. Eventually they start to soften and slip out of him. He shifts, whining quietly at the emptiness.

“Shhh, we’ve got you,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. He tries to stroke Jiang Cheng’s aching, half-hard cock, but Jiang Cheng twitches away.

“G’t off, hurts. Can’t come anymore….”

“Gently,” Wei Wuxian promises. He brushes Jiang Cheng with just the tips of his fingers until Jiang Cheng exhales and relaxes against him. “Gently, there we go. Lan Zhan?” Lan Wangj hums. Two long fingers slip into Jiang Cheng’s wet, open hole, rubbing around the swollen rim, then draw upward to crook softly against his prostate, not jabbing but just turning back and forth, slow, inexorable. Wei Wuxian kisses Jiang Cheng under the ear as Jiang Cheng gasps. “There, see. We’ve got you, shidi. Just hang on.”

They coax his body into pleasure together, quicken him, draw him taut between their hands and hold him there until time goes liquid and hazy. At last, Wei Wuxian closes his hand fully around Jiang Cheng’s shaft and strokes upward once, twice, long and smooth, and Jiang Cheng spills over his fingers with a quiet whimper.

Lan Wangji withdraws for a moment. Then he returns and brings the blanket with him, swathing them all in soft warmth as he wraps himself back around Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng is too exhausted to do anything but lie sprawled, letting them pet his hair and stroke his flanks as they all start to pass out. His skin is sticky and throbbing and he fits inside it.

“Mean it,” he eventually mutters into Lan Wangji’s sternum. Wei Wuxian makes a sleepy, questioning noise. “Always want you. We have to r’member that, even if we flinch. Even if I can’t stand you at that particular second. Promise me.”

Wei Wuxian’s laugh is mostly breath, but Jiang Cheng can hear the joy in it all the same. “Okay, A-Cheng,” he mumbles. A hand slides into Jiang Cheng’s, and squeezes. “I promise.”

~

“Jiang Cheng, promise you’ll miss us,” Wei Wuxian whines. “Lan Zhan’s next break isn’t for another two months! So unfair!”

“I’ll survive,” Jiang Cheng says drily. He ignores Wei Wuxian’s pout, instead eyeing the disciples that load up the narrow barge with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s luggage, to be shipped to Gusu via waterway as they fly back on their swords. “How did you buy so much stuff? Are all of these gifts for your little junior Lans? Bribes so they’ll put up with you?”

“Hey! Half of those boxes are from you. You’ve weighed us down with like a month’s worth of candied lotus seeds.”

“Lan Wangji likes them,” Jiang Cheng retorts smugly. Lan Wangji pointedly looks out over the water, regal save for his flushed ears. “Maybe now he’ll stop eating me out of house and home and let me get some actual work done.”

“Ai, Lan Zhan. Jiang Cheng pretends to be so heartless, but really he’ll miss us terribly, he’ll think of you every time he eats a lotus seed. Remember, he aaaalways wants us –”

Jiang Cheng elbows him instinctively; Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches. So does Jiang Cheng’s. Was the hit too hard for Wei Wuxian’s fledgling core, was that – but then Wei Wuxian regains his balance and cackles.

“So easily embarrassed! See, this is why I know you’ll be lonely, who else can you get all hissy with? It’s unhealthy to let that build up for too long.”

Lan Wangji hums. “I cannot easily get away from my Chief Cultivator duties, but Wei Ying has more freedom. Perhaps he can fly down to Lotus Pier before my next break, to keep Wanyin company. He can bring a gift, in exchange for the lotus seeds.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, cheeks warming. “It’s not in exchange for anything; you just need proper snacks instead of the rabbit food Cloud Recesses tries to serve.”

“Mm, but.” Lan Wangji’s expression stays the same, but his voice shifts, turns low and liquid. “Wei Ying could arrive after dark, when the lamps are lit, and climb through the window of Wanyin’s rooms just as you are undressing for bed. Splay himself out on the sheets, show you the gift I gave him to carry. Wei Ying still slick and stretched and used, hole plugged so none of my cum spilled out of him during the flight, gasping when Wanyin touches the plug. Whining at the stretch when you start to fuck him with it, to open him back up for you –”

Jiang Cheng slaps a hand over his mouth, swearing under his breath as he glances around to make sure Wangji’s voice was too low for the disciples to hear. Lan Wangji gives him a tranquil look. “What the hell! Lan Wangji, how have I been dating the two of you for over a year and never knew this was just a thing you do. Wei Wuxian already never shuts up, now I have to worry about it from you too?” Wei Wuxian is cackling again. Lan Wangji’s mouth twitches under Jiang Cheng’s palm. “Truly shameless,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, glaring so he doesn’t return the smile.

“Unashamed,” Lan Wangji agrees.

“I think it’d be a very thoughtful gift, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with exaggerated innocence. “I can bring more in between our longer visits; it’ll help tide Jiang-zongzhu over until next year.”

“Next…? Ah. So you’re going to foist off your Chief Cultivator duties onto some other poor sap, Lan Wangji? Can’t say I’m surprised; you obviously hate the politics of the job. Nie Huaisang will get it, in the end.”

“Huaisang?” Wei Wuxian looks genuinely surprised, then his eyebrows draw together. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea….”

“He’s capable when he actually decides to be, and good at smoothing things over diplomatically. Anyway, Hanguang-jun won’t do it, Zewu-jun will have enough to deal with fresh out of seclusion, Jin Ling is too young and has even more to deal with and you’ll leave him the hell out of it if you know what’s good for you.” Jiang Cheng shrugs. “Who else’s left – Sect Leader Yao?”

“No, he’s too distracted by eyeing you up,” Wei Wuxian says gravely, and dodges Jiang Cheng’s retaliatory swipe with a laugh. “Aiya! Why don’t you be Chief Cultivator, then?” He pauses. “Oh. Huh.”

Jiang Cheng sneers, angling for another swipe. “You’re not convincing anyone to accept Sandu Shengshou as the head of the cultivation world; you’d have a riot. Besides, isn’t part of the point to cut back on extra duties so there’s more time for….” His face heats, but he pushes through, albeit in a lower voice. “…for pleasure?”

“And what a pleasure,” Wei Wuxian says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Yeah, Jiang Cheng, but just think! Lan Zhan’s whole fantasy about Chief Cultivator Hanguang-jun and His Handsome Husband Double-Team the Proud Sandu Shengshou On A Table at a Discussion Conference is great as-is, but the whole vibe changes if instead it’s Two Lowly Ones’ Tabletop Worship of the Chief Cultivator’s Beautiful Body and Stunning Dickrobati–”

“Well, time for you to get out of my house,” Jiang Cheng says flatly, and mimes turning away. Wei Wuxian draws him back, laughing.

“No, no, come on – you’d be a good Chief Cultivator! I’m genuinely liking the idea. Or maybe you and Lan Zhan could split duties – that’s certainly a good excuse for him to spend a lot of time at Lotus Pier, or for you to come to Gusu.”

“Need an excuse, do you?” Jiang Cheng says, giving him a sidelong glance. Wei Wuxian blinks, then smiles softly.

“The excuse is that we love you and like you and want to see you,” he says. Out loud, unmistakable. Jiang Cheng nearly squirms. He coughs and nods to the disciples, who have finished loading the boat; they bow to him, Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian, and head back toward the gate.

The three of them are, briefly, alone.

“Jiang Cheng, hey,” Wei Wuxian says, mouth still quirked up but a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes, “we’re on the docks, you know. I’m going to hug you goodbye. Promise you want it?”

In their youth, Wei Wuxian would not have hesitated. He wouldn’t have had to.

Jiang Cheng swallows down the prickle in his skin, the lump in his throat. He grips Wei Wuxian’s elbow gingerly, then tightens his fingers in the fabric, crumpling it.

Wei Wuxian’s arms come up around him. He’s careful at first, then rushes to hold him all at once.

Jiang Cheng waits for the burst of anger, the swell of grief, the kneejerk reactions that rise in him when he’s not being held down and fucked out of his own head. When they don’t appear, he folds himself down into Wei Wuxian’s embrace, gathering him in, clutching him warm and familiar and close. It’s different than it used to be, but it’s good this way too. It’s still good.

A broad hand slides over his back, and Jiang Cheng looks up just as Lan Wangji steps in. He encircles them both, cool and sure. His hand soothes up and down Jiang Cheng’s spine as Lan Wangji kisses Wei Wuxian’s temple, his eyes on Jiang Cheng’s.

Yeah. Different but still good.

They part slowly. Jiang Cheng clears his throat and snaps his sleeves, moving back. Bichen and Suibian shine in the morning light as their masters step up onto the blades.

“Come back when you run out of lotus seeds,” Jiang Cheng says.

Wei Wuxian lets out a bright, gurgling laugh. “That’ll take forever!”

Jiang Cheng smirks. “When you get lonely, then.”

“Then we’d never leave, and you’d never have a moment’s peace!”

“Oh?” Jiang Cheng says. “How forward. Sounds like the logical solution, though.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes shoot wide. Lan Wangji goes still, balanced perfectly on his sword. Jiang Cheng gives them a cool look, squeezing his hands together behind his back. It’s fine. It’s fine. They’ll say so if it’s not fine, and then they can all figure out something else.

“I’d like it if you did,” he says, into the creak of ropes and hush of river-water.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian croaks immediately.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says at the same time. “We will discuss it, when next we are all together.”

Jiang Cheng nods. The sunlight falls on the three of them, on Jiang Cheng’s face and throat and shoulders, warmth wrapping around him like the promise of touch.

~

Nie Huaisang does get the Chief Cultivator position because Jiang Cheng was fucking right, of course, and also you could not force him to take that damn job for all the gold in Lanling. Lan Wangji dresses in palest lavender during the seven months of the year he and Wei Wuxian do not travel away from Lotus Pier, white with lilac embroidery when night-hunting with Wen Qionglin or Lan Yuan or Zewu-jun; Wei Wuxian, for his part, always wears his customary black and red, but now with a bell at his waist. He flings his arms around Jiang Cheng at inopportune times and yells in his ears. Jiang Cheng only sometimes throws him into the lake. Lan Wangji never stops either of them. They never do get any dogs, but bunnies make perfectly acceptable pets.

Jiang Cheng wants and wants and is wanted in turn, and it’s fine – no, it’s good – no. It’s perfect.

END